The whole place has gone toxic.
The wallpaper is curling and my clothes don't fit any more. I have become convinced that someone is removing, or adding furniture to the room. A thin layer of dust covers my Television, no matter how many times I clean it. The other day I tried to go to the shop for something, but the path I walked down led me back to my house.
I cannot pretend to ignore the helicopter outside, and the perpetual laughter which seeps under my kitchen door. There are little grey bugs in my carpet, they mumble under their breath when I start to fall asleep. I wake up and try to stamp on them, but they dissapear and turn into ciggarette butts and bottle caps.
